In the garden, children play,
Fresh petals tease unblemished skin.
Young eyes create the universe,
Unbounded by memory or anticipation.
Wordless but for laughter,
Without definition all is possible.
Stomach full and mind empty,
All is blissful.
In the fields, the young toil,
Backs grow strong with life’s labor.
Deft hands cary the load of old and new.
Love is made to a world of named things,
Children born and cared for,
Tired bodies sleep soundly.
In the forest, the old travel,
Laden with possessions, unknowns regarded with fear.
Patterned behavior flows from patterened minds.
Clinging to good with eyes on salvation.
On the mountain, death sits,
The world illuminated in blood and fire.
~r
This is a great piece! So I assume Kali is the Hindu goddess of time and change?
I love how the piece flows linearly through time. Strong imagery conveys a sense of living and dying. The powerful ending creates a mix of foreboding and acceptance for the natural order of life.
Good job!
Yeah, I completely agree with Paul Kemp here; this is excellent. This is definitely one of those “raised the bar” kind of poems.
Yowza… ! 🙂